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Malkitzedek Blessed Abraham First and Lost the Priesthood

Malkitzedek walked out of Shalem with bread and wine for a man coming off a battlefield, and then he blessed him in the wrong order.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. Bread and Wine After the Battle
  2. The Hill of Animals at the Door
  3. Six Hundred Thousand in a Doorway
  4. Crowded Standing, Spaced Kneeling
  5. Your Lamp Is in My Hand
Malkitzedek Blessed Abraham First and Lost the Priesthood Click for full size

Bread and Wine After the Battle

Abraham came back up the valley with three hundred and eighteen tired men, the rescued people of Sodom walking behind them, and the property of four broken kings loaded on whatever could carry it. He had been awake for days. He had just fought a war to get his nephew back.

Malkitzedek, king of Shalem, walked out to meet him with bread and wine. He was a priest of God Most High, of the line of Shem, and the priesthood of the world belonged to his family, and he had brought food to a man coming off a battlefield. It should have been the best moment of his life.

He set the bread down and opened his mouth to bless.

"Blessed be Abram to God Most High, maker of heaven and earth. And blessed be God Most High, who has delivered your enemies into your hand."

Abraham did not touch the bread.

"Does a man bless the servant," he said, "before he blesses the master?"

The order of a sentence. That is all it was, two clauses in the wrong sequence, said by a tired man to another tired man on an evening road. God took the priesthood out of Shem's line while the words were still in the air and put it into Abraham's hands, and the psalm that records the transfer says the Lord swore it and will not take it back: you are a priest forever, on account of what Malkitzedek said.

The Hill of Animals at the Door

The office traveled down through Abraham's family and came to rest at the entrance of a tent in a desert.

Aaron stood there with his sons in new clothes that did not fit their bodies yet, and in front of them Moses had laid out a bull and two rams. Rav Huna, in the name of Rabbi Abba bar Kahana, looked at how they were placed. A ram on one side. A ram on the other. The bull in the middle, taller than both.

The three animals made a hill. Not a throne, not a crown, not a chair carried on poles. A small rise in the ground, shaped out of the animals about to die, and a man walking up it.

Six Hundred Thousand in a Doorway

Then Moses was told to assemble the whole congregation at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting.

Rabbi Elazar stopped there and refused to move on. All Israel was six hundred thousand men. And you are telling me they stood at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting?

They did. It is one of the places where the small thing held the large one.

The world had been water to the horizon in every direction, and God said let the water gather to one place, and it went, which is pouring a full vessel into a full vessel. Moses scooped up soot from a furnace in two cupped hands and Aaron scooped up two more, and Moses threw all four handfuls into the Egyptian sky with one arm, and they went up. The courtyard of the sanctuary measured a hundred cubits by fifty and every Israelite alive stood inside it. Moses and Aaron gathered the assembly in front of a rock the size of a kitchen sieve.

And Joshua, at the Jordan, called the whole nation to come near, and stood them all in the space between the two carrying poles of the Ark.

"By this you will know that the living God is among you," he told them, standing in a crowd that could not fit where it was standing.

Crowded Standing, Spaced Kneeling

Centuries later the same thing happened every festival in Jerusalem, and people noticed it because it was physically uncomfortable.

The courtyard packed shoulder to shoulder until nobody could lift an arm. Then the moment came to bow, and there was room. Every man went down with space around him, four cubits of it, and a cubit more on either side, so that no one heard the words the man beside him was saying to God.

Rabbi Yohanan climbed the hill to sit with Rabbi Hanina, who was ill, and found him working on the verse about the day when Jerusalem will be called the Throne of the Lord and all the nations will be gathered to it.

Rabbi Yohanan asked him the practical question. "Will it hold them?"

The sick man had the answer ready, from the prophet. "Enlarge the place of your tent. You will spread out to the right and to the left."

Your Lamp Is in My Hand

Bar Kappara used to open this with a line from the psalms, that You light my lamp, and then he would go back to the first man in the garden.

God said to Adam, "Your lamp is in My hand, and My lamp is in your hand."

The lamp of a man is his breath, and God is holding it. The lamp of God is the flame in the sanctuary that is never allowed to go out, and a man is holding that.

"Light Mine," God said, "and I will light yours."

So every evening Aaron came into the tent alone, in the clothes, past the place where the bull had been killed, and trimmed the wicks and poured in the oil and set the flame going for the night. Outside, six hundred thousand people were somehow standing in a doorway. Inside, one man with a small fire in his hands was keeping up the other end of a bargain made in a garden.


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The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Vayikra Rabbah 10:9Vayikra Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

Vayikra Rabbah turns to Aaron's Investiture and the Bull Arranged Like a Hill.

The midrash doesn't stop there. It moves on to (Leviticus 8:3): "Assemble the entire congregation at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting." Now, Rabbi Elazar raises a crucial question: All of Israel? Six hundred thousand people? At the entrance of the Tent of Meeting? That seems..impossible.

Rabbi Elazar suggests this is "one of the places where the lesser contained the greater." Makom she’hamuat me’at machzik harbeh. A place where a small space holds a vast multitude.

This idea, this "lesser containing the greater," becomes a recurring theme. It's not just about physical space, but about the boundless nature of the Divine and its ability to manifest even in seemingly limited circumstances.

The midrash then offers a series of examples. Think about (Genesis 1:9), "Let the water under the heavens be gathered to one place." The entire world was full of water! How could it all gather in "one place"? Again, the answer: the lesser contained the greater.

Or consider the story of the plagues in Egypt. In (Exodus 9:8), Moses and Aaron are instructed to take "cupped handfuls of soot of a furnace." Rav Huna points out that a cupped handful is twice the size of a clenched handful. So, four cupped handfuls are like eight clenched ones. But Moses is supposed to throw it "heavenward" with one hand! How is that possible? The Holy One, blessed be He, provided the ability! The lesser contained the greater.

The passage continues, piling on examples: the dimensions of the courtyard in (Exodus 27:18), the rock from which water flowed in (Numbers 20:10), Joshua gathering the Israelites in (Joshua 3:9). In each case, the same principle applies: a limited space somehow accommodates the infinite.

Rav Hanin even describes the rock in Numbers as being the size of a sieve! Impossible for all of Israel to stand before it. Unless... the lesser contains the greater.

One particularly striking interpretation comes from Rav Huna. He suggests Joshua stood all the Israelites "erect between the two staves of the Ark." Rava says he "crowded them" there. It sounds absurd, yet it leads to a powerful statement from Joshua: "With this you will know that the living God is in your midst" (Joshua 3:10). Because the staves of the Ark contained them all, they knew of the Divine Presence.

The passage concludes with a vision of the future. (Jeremiah 3:17) promises that "all the nations will be gathered" to Jerusalem, which will be called "the Throne of the Lord." But how can Jerusalem contain all the nations?

Rabbi Yoḥanan asks Rabbi Ḥanina this very question, and Rabbi Ḥanina answers with verses from Isaiah: "Expand the place of your tent…for you will spread right and left" (Isaiah 54:2-3). The idea, again, is that the seemingly limited can expand to encompass the infinite.

So, what does all this mean for us? Perhaps it's a reminder that the Divine can be found even in the most unexpected places, even in the smallest of containers. Maybe it's an invitation to see beyond the limitations of our physical world and to recognize the boundless possibilities that exist within. And maybe, just maybe, it’s a comforting thought that even when we feel cramped and confined, there's always room for something greater.

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Vayikra Rabbah 25:6Vayikra Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

It touches on themes of covenant, perfection, and even the very nature of blessing. to a fascinating passage from Vayikra Rabbah, a Midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) text filled with rabbinic interpretations of the book of Leviticus, that really digs into this.

The discussion starts with a clever parallel drawn by Rav Huna bar Kapara. He points out that the term orlah, which means "foreskin" or "uncircumcised," is used both for trees and for men. He says "Orlah is stated regarding a tree and orlah is stated regarding man." Just as the orlah of a tree refers to the period before it can bear fruit, the orlah of a man refers to the place where he produces offspring.

Rabbi Ḥanin ben Pazi raises a fascinating question: Did Abraham, our patriarch, really need complex reasoning to understand this? Did he already know a fortiori inferences and verbal analogies? Maybe not. Instead, Rabbi Ḥanin suggests that God hinted at it directly in the verse, “I will establish My covenant between Me and you [and will multiply you exceedingly]” (Genesis 17:2), implying the covenant is linked to the place of procreation.

Then, Rabbi Yishmael offers a stunning idea: that God initially intended the priesthood to come from Shem, one of Noah's sons. We see this in the story of Malkitzedek, king of Shalem, who is described as "a priest of God, the Most High" (Genesis 14:18). But, according to Rabbi Yishmael, Malkitzedek messed up. How? By giving precedence to blessing Abraham over blessing God. He blessed Abraham first, saying, “Blessed be Abram…and blessed be God, the most High…” (Genesis 14:19–20). Abraham, ever humble, questioned this order. And because of this, the priesthood was taken from Shem's line and given to Abraham. As it says in (Psalms 110:1), "The utterance of the Lord to my master" and further, "The Lord has taken an oath, and He will not renounce it; you are a priest forever by My decree [divrati], like Malkitzedek" (Psalms 110:4); due to the speech [diburo] of Malkitzedek.

This idea is further explored in a debate between Rabbi Yishmael and Rabbi Akiva. Rabbi Yishmael argues that Abraham himself was a High Priest, citing the verse "The Lord has taken an oath, and He will not renounce it; you are a priest forever." But if Abraham was a priest, where would he perform the circumcision? If he circumcised the ear, heart, or mouth, he would be unfit for sacrifice. Therefore, it must be the mitzvah, the commandment, of the foreskin that makes him eligible.

Rabbi Akiva takes a different approach, highlighting the concept of orlah in different parts of the body. He points to verses that speak of "obstructed [arela] ears" (Jeremiah 6:10), "obstructed lips [aral sefatayim]" (Exodus 6:30), and "uncircumcised heart [arlei lev]" (Jeremiah 9:25). Given God's command to "Walk before Me and be perfect" (Genesis 17:1), where could one circumcise to achieve perfection? Not the ear, not the mouth. Therefore, it must be the male organ.

Nagda adds another layer to the discussion, focusing on the timing of circumcision: "And one who is eight days old [shall be circumcised]" (Genesis 17:12). Again, the question arises: where should this circumcision take place? If it were the ear, the child wouldn't be able to hear. If it were the mouth, they couldn't speak. If it were the heart, they couldn't think. Therefore, it must be the male organ, allowing the child to retain these essential functions. Rabbi Tanḥuma even declares that Nagda's reasoning is the most logical.

Finally, Rabbi Yudan and Rabbi Berekhya, citing Rabbi Yosei ben Ḥalafta, offer a simple yet profound explanation: "An uncircumcised male" – is there an uncircumcised female? Of course not! The point is that circumcision takes place where one can clearly distinguish between male and female.

What does all this mean? It shows us how deeply the rabbis grappled with the meaning of circumcision, exploring its connection to covenant, priesthood, perfection, and even the very essence of being human. It's a reminder that our traditions are not static, but rather a living, breathing conversation that continues to evolve with each generation. What resonates with you most from these interpretations? How does this deepen your understanding of the brit milah? It's a lot to consider!

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Vayikra Rabbah 31:4Vayikra Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

In fact, it goes even deeper.

Vayikra Rabbah, a fascinating collection of Midrashic (rabbinic interpretive commentary) teachings on the Book of Leviticus, opens up this very idea. It begins with the verse, "Command the children of Israel" (Leviticus 24:2), and then launches into an exploration of what it truly means to command, to be responsible, and to illuminate the world.

Bar Kappara begins with a powerful image: "For You light my lamp" (Psalms 18:29). The Divine saying to Adam: "Your lamp is in My hand, and My lamp is in your hand.” It’s a reciprocal relationship! As it says in (Proverbs 20:27), “The spirit of man is the lamp of the Lord.” And in turn, we are commanded "to kindle a lamp continually.” It’s as if God is saying, ‘If you illuminate My lamp, I will illuminate your lamp.’ That, Vayikra Rabbah suggests, is the essence of "Command the children of Israel."

The Midrash doesn’t stop there. It continues, drawing on the imagery of the Song of Songs (7:6): "Your head [roshekh] is upon you like the Carmel, and the locks of your head are like purple wool. But the Rabbis, in their ingenious way, find profound meaning within it.

The text interprets "your head" to refer to the poor and indigent (harashim) among the Israelites. These seemingly ordinary people, the Midrash tells us, are as dear to God as Elijah himself, who ascended Mount Carmel! Remember the dramatic scene from I (Kings 18:42), where Elijah "ascended to the peak [rosh] of the Carmel, and he knelt to the ground, and he put his face between his knees"? Why did he do that? The Midrash suggests he was pleading with God, saying, ‘Master of the universe, if we have no merit, look to the covenant of circumcision.’

And what about the "locks of your head are like purple wool"? Here, the Midrash sees a connection to David, the shepherd king. God cherishes the destitute (hadalim) among us as much as David, as (Zechariah 12:8) says, "The weak among them on that day will be like David." Some even connect the purple wool to Daniel, who was clad in purple (Daniel 5:29).

The Song of Songs continues: "The king bound in tresses [barehatim]". This phrase sparks a fascinating discussion. According to the Midrash, it refers to how God bound Himself by oath to rest His Divine Presence within the panels [rahitin] of Jacob, our patriarch. Rabbi Abba bar Kahana attributes this merit to Abraham, citing (Genesis 18:7): "Abraham ran [rahat in Aramaic] to the cattle." Rabbi Levi, however, attributes it to Jacob, referencing (Genesis 30:38), where Jacob "displayed the rods that he peeled in the receptacles [barehatim]."

And then, Rabbi Berekhya offers yet another interpretation: "The king bound in tresses" is Moses, who "became king in Yeshurun" (Deuteronomy 33:5). But, the Midrash adds a poignant twist: Moses was "bound in tresses" because God decreed that he wouldn't enter the Land of Israel, all due to the "receptacles [rehatim] of the waters of dispute" (Numbers 20:13).

To illustrate this, Rabbi Yehuda tells a parable about a king who decreed that anyone who eats Sabbatical Year produce would be publicly shamed. A well-born woman violated the decree, and as she was being led through the arena, she pleaded with the king to hang unripe figs around her neck. This way, people would know she was being punished for eating the produce, not for some other, more scandalous offense.

Similarly, Moses asked God to write in the Torah the real reason he wouldn't enter the Land, so that Israel wouldn't think he had falsified the Torah. God agreed, revealing that it was due to the waters of dispute (Numbers 27:14).

Rabbi Shimon offers another powerful parable. A king is traveling with his son when their carriage overturns, injuring the son. From then on, whenever the king passed that spot, he would lament, "Woe is me. Here my son was injured!" In the same way, the Midrash says, God mentions the waters of dispute three times in the Torah, as if saying, "Here I killed Moses, here I killed Aaron, here I killed Miriam." The verse "Their judges slip down by the rock; they will hear My words, for they are pleasing" (Psalms 141:6) is brought as support.

Finally, Rav Naḥman reiterates that the "King" in (Song of Songs 7:6) is indeed Moses, whom God appointed as king over Israel. God instructed Moses to issue edicts, just as a king does, and the people would fulfill them. And that, ultimately, is what it means to "Command the children of Israel."

So, what does all of this mean for us today? It suggests that leadership, responsibility, and even divine favor are not just for kings and prophets. We all carry that light. It's up to us to keep it burning bright.

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